Out With The Old

I could stay in this in-between spot forever. Sitting at my mom's, reading all day and sunning by the lake. I sat on the dock today and felt sweat beading under my clothes and I thought "if I had a gin and tonic this would be the most perfect moment." But alas, my mom was fresh out of gin- and I was too content to get up, anyway.

A sign that my move to Portland is imminent - and that my life there will be real and not just some far off abstraction: I have started looking to see if my favorite bands/singers will be stopping there on their tours. Yes, I will be living in a different city. And will I be able to see Matt Nathanson in my free time? Apparently, yes - he is going there in November! Very exciting.

My time here is dragging on and on. And it's very strange to be filled with such incongruous wants: I want to stay here forever and I want to fast forward to Saturday so I can just get on with it already. Here I am fed, unemployed but not needing a source of income, well-rested (probably overly rested is more accurate) an totally un-obligated in every way. I suppose it would get old. But, I did it for a whole summer back in 2006 and it was pretty great. Admittedly, it was pretty miserable at times. But in hindsight, I mostly remember the books I read and the countless hours spent lounging on our dock and not the lonely days and lonelier nights. Who knew that my Polish skin could even hold a tan like that? It's nice to be back here for a week or two, but any longer would probably toss me in to a vortex of depression. This place has that sort of effect, which is hard to believe with this beautiful view of Lake St. Clair spread out just behind any window here.. But it's very isolating to be out here, away from the place where I grew up and without any human contact other than my mom. Thus, the days stretch on and on.

But. Five whole days and then I'm gone. Maybe for only a few months, maybe longer. Is it a little bit crazy to have no timetable for my own life? More than a little bit crazy? My best friend and I have discussed the possibility of wwoofing after Christmas this year. In Italy, or possibly elsewhere. At which point I would be a bonafide hippie, but it's been a long time coming if we're being honest.

I am wholly satisfied with the choices I have made. I see other people my age (ie my twin brother who has just set out on a path to become a mind-blowingly rich lawyer) who have their upcoming years laid out in front of them and I know that I don't want that. I could be anywhere in the world in just a few months. It's what I've always wanted, and it's about to start. Couldn't really ask for more than that.

Amazing to think that right now some other girls are moving in to my old house in Ann Arbor, that a whole new crop of kids are starting up where I left off. Out with the old, as they say.

Never Trust a Big Butt and a Smile

There are about a trillion things that I feel like I need to be doing. But when I sit down to actually create a plan of attack, I can't seem to figure out what these trillion things are. My to-do list has very vague bullet points, like 'loan stuff' and 'finish packing,' which really isn't helpful at all. Because there could be countless sub-points under 'finish packing' - such as 'figure out what to do with all of the useless shit I have accumulated' and 'take a moment to think about how in the world I came to own all of these stupid clothes.'

So many of my (ex) co-workers expressed envy at the fact that I will be able to fit all of my earthy possessions in the back of a car. And yeah, it's nice to see that I only own a few boxes worth of stuff. But at the same time... where has all of my money gone? If I had piles of awesome stuff staring back at me at least I would have something to show for small bank account balance. Not to say that my possessions define me, but my possessions are sort of defining me right now.

I have been getting 12 hours of sleep each night this week. It is wonderful. Unnecessary, but absolutely wonderful. I have to take advantage while I can.

My ipod has really been working overtime these days. With no computer to use at home from which to play packing music, and with no music channels on tv ever actually playing music, I have resorted to turning my ipod up to full volume and using the headphones as makeshift speakers. The shuffle option has turned up some real gems, including "Poison" by Bel Biv Devoe.

I'm sitting at the student union, trying to figure out the various parts of my life that can be figured out via the internet. Student loans, flight info, shipping info (because I can't bring my suitcases on the plane for less that $25), cancelling my bi-weekly box of organic fruits and veggies that gets delivered to my house. I don't like this tying up of loose ends. I inevitably feel like I am missing something totally obvious and forgetting something crucial. There is a man plunging a drinking fountain next to me. Things are getting weird here, clearly. I need to leave. I stopped getting anything done quite a while ago.

Possibly off to Chicago tomorrow morning. It is going to be the ultimate game time decision, as my mom will call me when they are leaving to inform me if there is room in the van for me or not. My life is totally out of sorts now anyway, why not throw a last-minute weekend trip to the windy city in to the mix?

I said the most difficult goodbye this morning. It's comforting to know that all over this little college town there are people saying these terribly sad goodbyes and feeling just as weird about moving on. But, at the same time, watching my roommate's little blue Ford Focus pull out of our parking lot this morning was gut-wrenching. My little buddy is gone, moving to New York City on Tuesday. I'm lucky to have met these girls. I just hope I can get it together and stay in touch with them. It's always so much harder than you think it will be to keep up with old friends.

I don't want to say that I love goodbyes, because that would be a weird thing to say. But it's so nice to have the chance to be total wreck in the presence of people you love while letting them know just how much it's going to such to not be around them all the time. And goodbyes (at least the ones that I have faced so far) are usually paired with moments of great excitement and change.

So now I have to start packing up. I may be taking a little trip to Chicago this week to help move my twin bro in to his new apartment. I should go, if only to keep myself in the running of people who he will take care of when he is an enormously rich lawyer in a few years. And I think that staying around this town all week and just waiting to move out will just get me down.

Just marking time now. I'm not at work. I'm officially jobless. But at least I'm spending my first day as a member of the unemployed in bed watching the olympics. I foresee a nap or two in my immediate future. I do my best work at night, anyway. At the very least, not having to wake up early each morning will give me a chance to get back to my nocturnal roots for a couple of weeks.
Oh! My birthday! It was really great. As far as birthdays go, it was definitely up there. It was a good way to wrap up the summer.

Technically, I'm getting paid to watch the olympics this week because of the vacation days I never used up at work. Technically this is a vacation day. How awesome is that?

8 people showed up. 2 of them were required to be there (my boss and her assistant), and 1 of them left early. But it was a great crew, and I got to hear my boss say (in reference to her early 20s): "Man, I was drunk all the time! How did I even manage that?"

So, on a scale from 1 to popular, I'd give myself a 6.

They'll miss me when I'm gone and the void that I leave swallows them all whole!

Go West

Oh, the countless times I have sat at a bar with a karaoke song request slip in hand, desperate to remember the name of the band that does "King of Wishful Thinking." It's by Go West. Not only is it the name of a totally righteous band, it's also my charge in life for now. Go West! And I will!

It's my last day of work. It's my last day of work!!!! And it's my birthday. 08.08.08. You really can't get a much cooler birthday than that. If it were merely my birthday, or merely my last day, I might consider doing a little bit of work-related stuff. But, since it's both, I'm not even pretending to do anything. I think I carried a box of papers that need to be shredded down to the basement earlier. That's the extent of my working today.

Fond farewells and such. There is a goodbye lunch for me today at this really great pizza place. I hope a few people actually show up. The verdict is still out on how many people actually like me here... but I guess I'm about to quantify my popularity. Aside from the people who are on vacation (who I will just assume wouldn't have missed my goodbye lunch for the world if they were in town), there may only be a few people in attendance. Would it be inappropriate to order a beer?

Celebrations tonight will be epic. You know... I'm just thinking about how the only calls I got last night were from ex-boyfriends. My own twin brother didn't even call me! I have come to conclusion that there is a gestation period of about a year after which the boys who dump me realize that I'm actually awesome. But I will take calls/texts from exes over no calls/texts.

I'm not sure why I felt it was necessary to celebrate my birthday last night when I knew that tonight would be the actual celebration. I have a tradition of celebrating my birthday no less than three times, so I guess I might as well keep that up. Many free drinks last night. Many glasses of water at home. Large headache anyway. Something tells me that free pizza in an hour will help.

Holy shit! It's my last day of work.

Good lord, please don't let me cry.

Distraction, thy name is Pandora.com

One of the librarians just came up to me and said "20 hours." I instantly knew that by this she meant that I have about 20 more work hours left before I am completely done here. I heaved a massive sigh and continued to fill up my water bottle. But I felt a little sad. Which is totally strange and unexpected. A few coworkers have already said goodbye to me. There is a man who I typically only see at staff meetings, and sometimes we bump in to each other in the building. He is really sweet and friendly, and yesterday he apologized for not being able to come to my farewell lunch on Friday. He then said, "Have a really great life." And it was so sincere that it left me fumbling for false words to say that we would keep in touch. Of course we won't keep in touch. But to hear someone say 'have a nice life' and know that you will never see them again is very sad. It's a huge part of life, I suppose. And I should get used to it.

I have much to do between now and 4:30 on Friday. Pandora.com is not helping me get these things done any faster. First of all, it totally slows down the computer in my office. It makes my web browser freeze, and makes it impossible to multi-task with any bit of efficiency. On top of this technical roadblock, it's driving down my morale. Because it's making me realize just how terribly lame my taste in music is. For example, the station that I listen to the most is the one that I built to include music that sounds like Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaleson, and the Indigo Girls. I don't know who this Missy Higgins character is that keeps popping up, but I really like her as well. Show me a girl with a guitar/piano, that's all I really need. Sigh. I created some other stations to make myself feel better, but I don't even listen to them. My Ryan Adams station just sits there. Trust me, I would love to listen to you, Ryan. I'm just a little busy getting emo to sappy singer-songwriters that are pumping pure estrogen through my headphones.

People are moving out, everything is changing. I think that I will probably be poor for the rest of my life, and I came to terms with that during my walk to work this morning. After I spend some time scraping the bottom of the barrel and having wonderful adventures, then I will go to library school and become an administrator and make way too much money. Did you know that the higher-ups make big bucks? I'm talking 6 figures. So I think my plan is totally feasible and totally orginal - go off in to the world and travel until that gets old, then go back to school and then become outrageously wealthy.

I'm almost 23. I know that's not old. But I, personally, have never been that old before. Why does it feel like such a grown-up age to me? I remember being a little girl and thinking I would be married by 23. Ha. That's silly.

Last Monday

“Intelligence is all well and good, but if you want to unstick your eyelids first thing in the morning you need to forget everything you know.” -Sylvain Trudel, Mercury Under My Tongue

This weekend was filled alternately with too much sleep and with sleeplessness. Leaving me floating somewhere above my body today - not really knowing if I'm completely rested or just very, very tired.

This is my last week of work. Naturally, I will treat it as any other week - meaning I spend most of Monday easing in to work. I have to clean out my office soon. The hardest part about that will be resisting the urge to steal office supplies. Then, I will have to clean out my room and the rest of my house, and then I will being the long process of transplanting my life.

I really, really, really want to work at Powell's in Portland. It's a giant bookstore, and it has a couple of different locations. I applied to two really shitty positions at Powells.com sometime in the past couple of weeks. I just checked, and they have opened up a full time bookseller position at one of the stores. It pays a little over $9 an hour, which sadly isn't much less than I make now. I would be the perfect bookstore employee. How do I convey that in a cover letter? This I will have to work on today.

Something smells real funky in my office right now. I'm hoping it's the garbage that the custodial staff has not removed since the beginning of last week and not me.

Me + Michael Cera = <3

The kindness of people is astounding me today. A couple of people have, upon learning of my move, stuck their necks out for me and offered whatever help they could give in finding me a job/getting me in touch with people out there. One man offered to call a library contact of his after casually meeting me at a big library function earlier this week. We were introduced, he asked where in the library I worked and I told him, but qualified my response with saying that I'm leaving in a week. He asked where I was going, I said Portland, and he said that he lived there for 10 years, worked at the public library there, and would be happy to get in touch (even make a phone call! That is huge in this everything-accomplished-via-email age!) with his former colleagues and see what he could do.

People helping people. It's just nice!

I took yesterday off of work. I was "taking my mom to a doctor appointment back home." But I was actually spending some time with some old friends, and visiting the movie set downtown for "Youth in Revolt." Some of the streets have been blocked off for a while, so we decided to take a stroll and check it out. Yeah, I saw Michael Cera. I'm pretty sure he winked at me and then fell hopelessly in love with me. But I had to go get breakfast at The Broken Egg, so it was pretty bad timing.

My friends left around noon, which left me the rest of the day to get things done. Which, surprisingly, I did! I finally took my broken monitor in to get fixed, and then took a drive to the recycling center to get rid of some trash. Which made me realize that we have a large amount of stuff that has accumulated in the past 2 years of living in our house. And we will have to go through all of it very soon. Just thinking about it fills me with dread.

Going through motions here for the rest of the day. But I'm sure this weekend will be great, as everyone is trying to squeeze every last bit of collegey raucousness out of these last weeks here. I'm getting to be kind of an expert at it during the last, oh, year and a half that I've been treating as a long goodbye.